


Two Eyes and a Heartbeat

by matan4il



Series: Bottom Robert Appreciation Week [1]
Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Bottom Robert Appreciation Week, Bottom Robert Sugden, Domestic, M/M, bottom robert week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 20:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11239011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: Robert meant it when he said he wanted to christen every room in the Mill with Aaron. Or he didn't exactly, because it's not a want, it's a need.





	Two Eyes and a Heartbeat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Bottom Robert Appreciation Week on Tumblr.
> 
> Day 1 theme: **domestic**
> 
> Possibly set after the end of the Friday episode following the reveal. It's up to you to decide. Cookies for you if you identify the quote the title refers to.
> 
> Definitely not the fic I thought I would write for this particular theme, but here we are. I hope you enjoy despite the lack of beta'ing!

Robert meant it when he said he wanted to christen every room in the Mill with Aaron. Or he didn't exactly, because it's not a want, it's a need. He looked at all of the catalogues; picked every single one of the items; went back and forth when it came to the colors; made sure that as things were unpacked and set up, they did look good together (and they did, he absolutely saluted his good tastes), but none of this is theirs. Not yet. He can still list what came from where and what other variations could have replaced it. Each one of these items still belongs in his head to some other place, is still connected with some seller's face. He wants to bind it all together, make it their own. He desperately has to make sure they are as tied to the artifacts around them as he hoped they are to each other.

He doesn't know how to go about it. They've been struggling. Pretending not to, but the effort to hold on punctuates their days. They are a question mark and Robert doesn't know how to tell Aaron about the answers he needs. Isn't sure how he could have permission to even need when he almost cost them so much. The thought washes over him and leaves him drenched and cold. Shivering in the middle of an ocean of self-hate and doubt, about to be covered by yet another wave. If he will let it, this _will_ drown him.

He looks around at their living room and remembers. He'll never be sure for how long he allows himself to drift. The doorbell ringing brings him back to the present and the silhouette of Aaron through the painted glass. Not using his key. Robert can only guess where his husband is coming back from, but he is certain regardless that this is not good. He walks over to the door and opens it to be faced with a sight serving as confirmation of his fear.

For a brief second, Robert is at a loss, his stomach turning. The next, he takes Aaron's hand and pulls him in, closing the door behind. Then he points at that same glass he was just looking through and says, "because you liked that Mucha beer poster". He smiles with only one corner of his mouth, "even if you had no idea who Mucha was." Aaron turns his gaze back from the entrance and huffs. It's as much admission of amusement as he's going to make right now. 

Robert walks backward carefully, never taking his eyes off Aaron's face, nor letting go of his hand. When they're close to the Vespa chair, he continues with what he knows will get him an eyeroll. "Because you are a boy racer," a tiny swallow and then, "and I love that."

The sofa is next right away, "because I thought this color would go with your eyes." Robert lets himself close the gap between their bodies a little, his grip tightening higher up Aaron's arm as he guides them on into the kitchen.

"No handles," Robert confirms, "it worked better when I kept imagining you fucking me against the counter." He's close enough now to feel the little catch in Aaron's breathing rather than hear it. He comes even closer, kissing the side of one scruffy cheek before lowering his head and tracking with lips and tongue his way down to that neck pulse point. This is going to burn later, it always does and it's always worth it. Robert's hands go up to his shirt, start unbuttoning it. This is begging. He's aware and has been all along. Aaron's hands rest on his, stopping him.

"I didn't realize how much you thought about all of this," Aaron says, voice low. 

"But I promised you, didn't I? That I'd make us a home," Robert feels his husband's hands move down, joining in on his undressing, while Aaron's mouth captures his. He moans. Because it's uncontrollable, that surge of desire. Because this is everything and he's suddenly less afraid. He's almost laughing into the kiss when it strikes him that his shirt is gone, his belt is being unbuckled and his pants are about to be made irrelevant as well. He tries to claw at Aaron's clothes, but instead his hands are slapped away. He's being manhandled, turned around and forced to lean over the counter, his hands firmly planted on and against it, fingers entangled with his husband's. His head drops all on its own when he feels the press of Aaron's lips to his nape and he has no doubt this is the widest he's grinned in a while. There's a bite just then to the spot where shoulder and neck join and an instinctive moan that follows, then the untwining of fingers. He spreads himself as much as he can considering the pants that are still pooling around his feet and bites down on the side of his arm. Robert gives into the sensations of being explored and opened up as Aaron uses spit and an increasing number of digits on him. Next there's the feel of a zipper being undone and Aaron puling himself out. Robert takes it all in, together with the rough fabric of his husband's pants still rubbing against the back of his naked thighs and it turns him on even more. He wants so badly and he can't help his giddiness.

When Aaron breaches him, Robert almost chokes. His bite around his arm slips, a bit of saliva hitting the counter before he manages to swallow, but he's not trying to be even slightly quiet anymore. He's allowed to let go. It's their home. Aaron kisses and sucks along his shoulder blades and clutches at his hips, starting slow but picking up the pace. Every thrust is a mini-concert of gasps and pants, their joint symphony. The tempo starts turning a little manic with shorter movements hitting the prostate practically every time and Aaron rubbing up Robert's cock, no trace of elegance to it. There's no need for any between them, Robert's own hand joining in. Aaron's breaths of exertion prick at his husband's skin, sending shivers everywhere. There's something like the sting of tears in Robert's eyes when he clenches down on Aaron without warning, drawing out a yelp and a reflexive squeeze. It's enough to make Robert come all over their hands and the counter. A few broken words from Aaron and he spills himself too, deep inside Robert. Encircling him, Aaron guides them both in a slow collapse to the floor, never even bothering to pull out. 

They're a pile of mess there, of limbs, damp clothes and Aaron's lingering embrace, for a while. This is contentment, Robert thinks and a chuckle escapes him.

"What?" Aaron's smile and affection are evident in his voice.

Robert's shrug is almost unnoticeable. "I can't wait to explain my choices in the bathroom."


End file.
